A Rift of Olympic Proportions

Sometimes it's tough to be a British-Canadian holding a greencard in the United States. Like every 2 years. Every 2 years (although he claims it's only every 4) I'm married to a maniac. An obsessed, egotistical, patriotic maniac. I blame The Olympics. 

It's all in jest (I think) but every 2 or 4 years, I endure sarcastic gems like:

"How many medals do YOUR countries have?" and "Do you think the world knows our national anthem by now since they've heard it so much?" 

Only able to watch American coverage of the Olympics, it's a little difficult to celebrate (or even see) my countries' victories. If there's an American participating, that's all you hear about. And if there isn't, you don't hear much. But I guess that's to be expected.

I've been asked who I cheer for, and I'm a little ashamed to admit that I'm a fairweather fan. If there's a Brit and a Canuck in an event together, chances are I'm cheering for whoever's in the lead. (Although it hasn't come up much.) Unpatriotic? Perhaps. But to quote Charlie Sheen: It gives me a better chance of "Winning!"

 Like a small child at Christmas, Brandon is physically unable to wait to see the results when they are broadcast late at night. I find him on ESPN.com every morning, checking out the medal count and finding out who wins what. Of course we still watch the events until we turn into pumpkins, but he knows exactly who wins every time. Bless his heart, he doesn't tell me, but sometimes he can't help but smirk.

He and I have a deal when it comes to the medal count. He gets the USA. I get England AND Canada, which helps a little in the Winter Olympics but until I find a Chinese branch in my family tree, I'm going to come up short every time. And that's all right with me - a happy husband is a happy...oh, there's no rhyme for that. But as long as Brandon's happy, I'm happy. And between Michael Phelps, Missy Franklin and the gymnasts, he's been incredibly happy...and obnoxious. But mostly happy.